


you'll only ever be as whole as the way you see the stars

by moriturism



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, POV Second Person, Sakusa introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:13:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26079295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moriturism/pseuds/moriturism
Summary: You never believed in soulmates. But him. You could believe in him.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 3
Kudos: 70





	you'll only ever be as whole as the way you see the stars

It will be a rainy day when you awake from the dream, head fuzzy as the gray clouds outside. Your room will be cast in the shadow in a way only post-dream rooms are.

You never believed in soulmates. You barely believed in dreaming, either, but on nights like the last where you'd recall leaving fingerprints under someone else's skin. You will wake up, thoughts left to flow like a river out to sea, and you will wonder.

Did he feel electric under your touch? Did he hold your eye contact just a second longer than needed, begging to recall it again in the morning? Did he wake up, all gray skies and reminiscence, and linger on the thoughts of a boy in his dreams?

_ Dear soulmate,  _ you will find yourself thinking as the sun creeps over the horizon.  _ Do you believe in me, too? _

When you’re finally awake enough to recall that you’ve given up on chasing dreams, you will shake the slumber from your eyes with a morning jog before the sun can rise. You don’t like mornings, never have, but at some point, a begrudging friend told you maybe it’d help to get an early start to your day and you haven’t stopped ever since.

At some point, your therapist explained to you that you like to control things. How many spoons are in the draw. What type of bathroom cleaner you use.

You can’t control when the sun rises, and you think it’s stupid to even think about it. But if you can  _ see _ it happen, maybe it will make more sense. You can’t control the sun, but you can watch it change in front of you.

You don’t know yet that you will keep going on morning jogs for years to come. The only time you will miss it is when the same friend who told you to start running stays over unexpectedly and the both of you stay up so late, you sleep through your alarm.

He will wake before you because he’s been doing the whole “morning jog” thing a lot longer than you have. He will almost break your coffee machine before barely getting out a cup of coffee for you. It will be more bitter than you like it, and his surprise visit will have messed up your routine so you will have no creamer to fix it.

To your surprise and his, you will drink it anyway.

It will be an unassuming Tuesday morning, and you will be so concerned with fixing your coffee pot and feeling the way his fingers smooth over yours when he passes you the mug that you will forget all about your dream and a soulmate just out of reach.

But it will take time until that night comes, and you trust him enough to stay over. For now, you jog because it works better than coffee and you’ve always drunk it too sweet anyways.

You will come home and shower in a perfect twenty-minute interval taking five minutes to wash your hair, five minutes to shave, and ten minutes to contemplate whatever you need while the conditioner sinks in. When you make breakfast, you will relish once again in the calm certainties of your life. Morning jogs. Twenty-minute showers. Creamer in coffee.

Inevitably, you will have to make your way to work where you will see him again. He will smile at your like it is not seven in the morning and you are not both here far too early for any realistic human. But neither of you have ever been realistic, and you do not intend on starting now.

He will ask you, more a courtesy than question, to get some extra practice with him. You will pretend to be annoyed and furrow your brows until he steps forward, closer than you think friends should, and smooth down the line forming.

“C’mon, Omi, blow off some steam,” he’ll tell you, even though it is seven in the morning and he is the cause of most of your steam, anyways.

You will oblige him, like you always intended on doing, and hit his tosses. You take comfort in the certainty with which he sends them to you, both reliable and a bit pushy. A bit too much like him, you will muse, before he sends another toss your way and you have no time to laugh at your own thoughts.

Eventually, the rest of the team will join you two. They will file in and greet you with surprise as if you do not practice here every morning as the sun hits the window so perfectly you don’t even need to turn on the gym lights. They will warm-up, join in until suddenly there is a whole practice going on.

On bad days, when not even the morning jog or the coffee or the early practice can shake you of leftover pieces of dread, you will look out onto the gym during break.

You will recognize that you never pictured yourself ending  _ here _ , and then just as soon realize that you never pictured yourself becoming anything past highschool. For a moment you may be afraid because you have never really known where you were going before he’ll clap a hand on your shoulder and tell you not to think so hard.

You will look at your sneakers, scuffing against the gym ground.  _ I am here, _ you will think before catching his eyes again.  _ I exist. _

When you were younger and thought maybe soulmates still existed, you thought meeting them would feel like all the puzzle pieces fitting into place. When you won your first nationals, you realized that wasn’t quite it.

You’d realize there, on the top of the stage with everything you’d ever wanted, that there’d never been one moment where you became what you wanted to be. You were never born an incomplete puzzle, you will realize, clutching all the pieces in your palm tightly.

You were born with sunrises and a brick road leading nowhere and realized on an unassuming Tuesday morning that maybe living a life like this, one you couldn’t imagine years ago or months ago or a day ago, isn’t terrible, really.

You don’t believe in soulmates, not really. But you believe in his tosses. You believe in the calm before the storm, in the smirks saved especially for you, in coffee in the mornings a bit more bitter than you like it but still good.

Yeah, still good.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this as an exercise to get out of writer's block so it's rather different from my other writing. Regardless, enjoy!  
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated :)  
> Find me on twitter @seijohluvbot


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